


Jack Wakes

by gracefultree



Series: Waking to Live [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefultree/pseuds/gracefultree
Summary: One night, Jack meets a young man named Ianto Jones.  They capture a pteradon together, and Jack takes him on as a lover, refusing to let him work for him at Torchwood.





	1. A Conversation with Jack

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from ff.net. Enjoy!

I believe in love at first sight.

Now, before you protest that the words "love" and "Jack Harkness" don't belong in the same sentence, we need to come to an agreement about the definition of love.

For you 21st Century lot, there's two kinds of love, maybe three. Love of family, love of friends, and romantic love. For me, there's hundreds, thousands of types of love. Every person I meet is potentially someone to love. And, no, before you snicker like that, I'm not using "love" as a synonym for "sex." You see, love is different with each person. No love is the same. And I don't know about you, but I couldn't have sex with someone without loving them just a little. It might be their laugh, or the way their skin glows in the moonlight or their opinion about religion, but there's always something.

So, let's talk about falling in love. The sudden desire to spend every moment with that new person, to get to know them, to learn everything there is to know about them. That fluttery feeling in your stomach, like butterflies, like anxiety, but softer. Love at first sight is more like that feeling of meeting someone for the first time and being utterly smitten, like you've been hit in the head with a hammer or punched in the stomach, only not so violent. You know, in that instant, that this person will change your life forever. You might not know how they'll change it, but you know.

But I digress.

It's unfortunate that your views of love and sex are so – distinct. Either it's the warm emotional connection of love, or the cold, clinical sexual act. Love is beautiful. Sex is ugly, something to be ashamed of, if you're not having sex with someone you love. In fact, you keep these two concepts so far apart that you call the same activity by different names if there are emotions involved. Sex is just sex if it's about physical sensations, lust, hormones, pheromones, attraction, and pleasure. If there's an emotional relationship between the parties, sex might have all the same properties I just mentioned, but it will be called "making love."

Sex can be a recreational activity. Sex can be exercise. Sex can be communication. Sex can be expressing complex feelings. It can be caring, and comfort and any number of other things. And, yes, sex can also be love. As I said, I love everyone I have sex with.

Did Jack Harkness, the king of one night stands and the casual fuck really just say he loves everyone he shags? Yes, I did. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. Sex, at its most fundamental level, is the connection between two people. And what is more beautiful than that? What's more deserving of love than that?

When I say "love," I don't mean the all-consuming "I only ever want to have sex with you for the rest of my life because monogamy is how we express love, even if humans aren't actually meant to be monogamous" feeling that might or might not last. That's what your society calls it. I don't believe in monogamy. Sure, I've done it with a few partners, but it wasn't really my thing. I did it for them, because it would make them happy, but it only made me cranky. Well, mostly. I don't actually have to be shagging more than one person at a time. I just need the option to be there if I want it. It's a difficult thing for you to understand. Most of you, anyway. There are those who are getting closer to my views. Polyamory, polygamy, pansexuality and omnisexuality. None of it quite fits me, but then again, I was born over three thousand years in the future, so I have different views on a lot of things, and sex is only one of them.

I bet you're wondering if I've ever been in love in your traditional sense. I have been. Quite a number of times, actually. More than you would imagine, given my reputation. But I actively cultivate that particular reputation so my potential partners aren't surprised when we get around to talking about things like "relationships" and "what we're doing" and "what it means that we're together" and I tell them I don't do monogamy. It always makes me happy when someone's willing to consider being with me despite that, given the hang-ups you people have about sex.

This brings us back to what I said to start all this: Love at first sight.

I've experienced that, too. Four times. I'm open to it again. It's been a very long time since I've loved someone like that, since I've loved someone so much.

The first person I loved on sight was my little brother. I was almost three, and meeting him, holding him for the first time, it changed my life. I was so proud to be a big brother! There wasn't a more loved little brother in the whole community. I would have done anything for him, which is why it hit me so hard to lose him. It wouldn't have been so bad if we'd found a body. I would have had closure. As it stands, his loss is an open wound on my heart that I've hidden so far down in my psyche that I couldn't access it if I tried.

I was twenty when I was paired off with the man I would love instantly and unconditionally until he slipped down the slope of drugs and alcohol that I wasn't willing to follow. He hurt me, in more ways than one, and I fell out of love with him. We were hot and cold, off and on, in love and out of it for many years, never together longer than a few months. That's probably what kept us together so long. (By "together," I mean "willing to sleep together when we ran into each other.") Spending five years in a time loop of two weeks where we were the only people who knew those same two weeks would repeat again and again both brought us together in new ways and destroyed any chance we had of a real relationship. Or a lasting one. I couldn't stand to be anywhere near him after that, though we hooked up for sex a few times before I left the Time Agency.

And, no, I'm not going to tell you about the Time Agency.

The third person I fell in love with at first sight was a woman named Rose. She was so beautiful! A 21st Century girl I met in London in 1941. We time travelers get around. (No, I'm not telling you about that, either.) I danced with her on top of my stolen Chula warship by the light of Big Ben and the barrage balloons. Sadly for me, she was already in love with someone else, and while that wouldn't have mattered to me, she was raised differently, and it wouldn't be ok for her. She never had a more devoted friend than I was.

It goes without saying that I fell in love with the man she loved. I fell in love with him as we bantered about sonic technology and ran from a danger that I had inadvertently released. He gave me a chance at a new life, a braver life, a life I could be proud of, that he could be proud of. He abandoned me, taking Rose with him, leaving me alone with piles of dust and bodies. I'd only ever kissed them once, and it was a goodbye kiss, and we all knew it. I didn't expect to live. But Rose loved me, in her own way, and I lived and learned how to be alone again after our adventures together.

Since I've been on Earth, I've fallen in love, and been loved, but it's never been as intense as with those others. It's never consumed me. It's never been that instant connection I had with those four.

Do I want it? Sure. But it's not the kind of thing you can force.

So when I looked into his eyes for the first time, I wasn't expecting anything more than an acknowledgement of my presence or, if I was lucky, a spark of attraction. Instead, I fell in love. I fell in love, and it hit me over the head and I was lying in the grass in a park, in the middle of the night, staring up at a gorgeous young man in tight jeans that showed off his assets in all the right ways, with a sedated weevil next to me and a gash healing on my neck. Then he spoke, and if I didn't know before, I knew then that he would change my life forever.

His name is Ianto Jones.


	2. Meeting Ianto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets Ianto for the first time.

There are nearly seven billion people living on Earth right now. Even if I was to live for seven billion years, I would still remember the day I met Ianto Jones. I would still remember the day we made love for the first time, even if I called it "just sex." I was lying. I knew I was lying, but I wasn't ready to admit to myself, let alone him, that I loved him already, only a mere 23 hours after meeting him. I would still remember the day he broke my heart, and the day months later that he stitched it back together again. I would still remember the day he died.

Do you know why?

I fell in love with Ianto the moment my eyes first met his. He awoke in me a passion I hadn't known I possessed. He awoke in me a desire to be a better man. He awoke in me a compassion for others I'd thought I lost long ago. He awoke in me an ability to forgive transgressions of the heart and of the soul. He awoke in me an ability to love beyond the moment, beyond the person, beyond myself and even beyond him. He awoke in me fear and sorrow and neediness I'd been hiding in the depths of my heart. He awoke in me jealousy and possessiveness and territoriality I never allowed myself with any lover, let alone someone I'd just met. He awoke me to joy and tenderness and pleasure beyond anything I'd ever experienced at the hands of trained pleasure slaves in the Vegas Galaxies. 

He taught me that when two people are in love, nothing can compare. 

We met on a Tuesday. A weevil was loose in the park, and I went on my own to bring it in. Tosh waited for me at the Hub, while Owen and Suzie were in London sifting through the rubble of the Canary Wharf disaster. I'd spoken to the Queen, and I still had the funding I needed to monitor the Rfit. I felt confident that Owen and Suzie could deal with UNIT well enough to get the tech we needed and oversee the destruction of the remains of Cybermen and Daleks. One of us needed to stay at the Hub at all times, monitoring the internet and media, and since that was Tosh's specialty, she was that person. I remained in Cardiff as a field agent, since our Rift continued to spit out aliens and debris, despite the London Rift being closed by the Doctor. Yes, I knew it was him. I saw some of the internal camera feeds. I knew I'd not be able to make it there before he left, so I contented myself with knowing he had saved the planet yet again, though he hadn't been able to save Rose or her mother. When I had time, I would mourn them, I promised myself. 

The weevil wasn't particularly smart or violent, but I was distracted, and it chewed on my neck, leaving me bleeding on the ground. It would have killed me and gotten away if not for the intervention of a stranger with a branch. A civilian. _Shit_ , I thought, before I remembered that I had retcon in my pocket. The weevil went after the civilian and I recovered enough to take it down, though not before he was scratched. Still, he was alive, which is more than I can say for many civilians who encounter weevils in the park late at night. 

I forgot about him as I sedated, cuffed, and hooded the weevil, remembering his presence only when he thanked me for saving him. Still healing, I needed a moment to staunch the bleeding. _Now I'll need to retcon him for seeing me heal,_ I thought regretfully. I hated having to use retcon most of the time, though my team felt I gave it out like candy. I do a lot of things I have to do when I hate doing them, because they have to be done. Responsibility is a heavy burden, as the Doctor would say. 

Still, I know what it's like to have one's memory forcibly taken, and I would do my best to pass off the healing as not as bad as it looked if I could. 

"No, thank you," I replied, getting my first look at him. _Gorgeous,_ my mind whispered. _Delicious_ , my cock replied, jerking to life with adrenaline from the hunt and lust at the tight jeans that showed off the young man's attributes. "And you are?" I asked, adding the usual flirtation to my tone, hoping he'd respond to it. I climbed to my feet. 

"Jones. Ianto Jones," he replied with a silky Welsh accent. Oh, yes, he was responding. I could smell it on the air. 

I met his eyes and felt my world fall off kilter, though I didn't understand it yet. All I knew was that this man was important, that I had to do everything I could for him, and that he would change my life. The attraction alone was unusual in its strength, and my response to his voice startled me. I felt like he could melt frozen butter with that voice, and if my brain was butter, it would be oozing out my ears that very moment. 

"Nice to meet you, Jones, Ianto Jones," I said, shaking his hand. It was warm and dry and a spark shot between us. "Captain Jack Harkness," I introduced myself. I noted the barest flicker of recognition and triumph in his eyes before he glanced away, down at the weevil. _What does that mean?_ I thought, though I was still distracted by his scent on the breeze and promptly forgot about my question. 

You might wonder about me responding to his scent. Everyone has pheromones, even you 21st Century folks, and Ianto's were _glorious!_ Not everyone smells the same, and not all pheromones work for every person, since some people are repulsed by the same ones that ensnare others, but for him, a 21st Century man with, in my experience, underdeveloped pheromones to have me breathing deep just to get another whiff of him, that was exceptional. Especially since I'd been trained not to respond to them. 

"Lucky escape," he commented. 

"I had it under control." 

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, in an expression I would come to know very well. "Think so? Looked pretty vicious," he said. He took three steps towards me and held out a hand, as if to touch me. My neck, specifically. I backed away. Couldn't let him see the extent of my non-existent wounds. "You, um, you were bleeding." Implying that he could tell that I was no longer bleeding. _Double shit,_ I thought. _It's not dark enough and he's a good observer._

"I've had worse from shaving," I muttered. 

He took a deep breath and let it out as he spoke again, his eyes trailing back to the weevil on the ground. "Looked like a weevil to me." He turned back to me expectantly, waiting for me to confirm his assessment. Of course I couldn't. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I retorted. He didn't believe me. I'd spoken too quickly, and we both knew it. He smirked and my cock jumped again. If I didn't get out of here quickly, I'd bed him in the mud and grass, and much as I'd usually jump at such an opportunity, I had responsibilities, being the only field agent in Cardiff at the moment. I made the snap decision to deal with the weevil now and get more information on this Ianto Jones before I dealt with him. _There's time,_ I convinced myself, _and Tosh can clean up any messes he might create in the meantime. Perhaps there's a legitimate reason he'd know about weevils? Not likely, but not unheard of, either._ "I'll take him from here," I added, grabbing the weevil and hauling it over my shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Thanks for the assistance," I said over my shoulder as I walked past him with my burden. 

"Anytime," he said. Then, as if he was just thinking it, he added, "By the way, love the coat." 

He was flirting, clumsily, and it amused me. I smiled to myself. Looking back, I realize that I hadn't smiled that freely in a long time. _Young and inexperienced,_ my brain told me. _Eager to learn,_ my libido replied. _Willing,_ my cock offered, though I disagreed. _He's just curious,_ I told myself. _I don't need a neophyte in my bed, not with all that's going on, not if I'm going to have to retcon him._

Yes, I'm a vain man, and I want my lovers, even those I bed but once, to remember me.


	3. Digging for Info

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack needs to find out some more information about Ianto Jones. He goes to Tosh, among others.

Settling into the driver's seat of the SUV, the sedated weevil in the boot, I pulled up a connection with Tosh at the Hub.

"Tosh? What can you find for me on Ianto Jones? He's young, mid-twenties, I'd guess. About six feet tall, dark hair, light eyes. Welsh."

Tosh laughed, a sound I loved hearing. "Your next shag?" she asked through her laughter. In the background I could hear typing.

"Hardly," I replied, though the suggestion reawakened the desire for him I'm carefully locked away for later.

"Ianto Jones is a common Welsh name, Jack. It's like John Smith here." 

"Do what you can. He knew what a weevil is."

"Ah. Well, that makes it more pressing, doesn't it? Let's see…" She trailed off and I listened to her type while I drove. "Mainframe has a hit. Ianto Jones, born August 19, 1983 in Newport. He worked at Torchwood London for two years. He's one of the 27 survivors." She paused. "His girlfriend, Lisa Hallet, also worked there, and she's listed as missing, presumed dead. Looks like they were together most of his time there." 

I sighed. He _would_ be from Torchwood London, a group I wanted nothing to do with. I'd worked hard over the last few years to sever my ties with them, and now that Yvonne and almost all of the employees were dead or missing and presumed dead, I had hoped I'd be rid of them. "What did he do there?" I asked. "He's pretty young."

"Junior Researcher," she reported. "It's just about the lowest position you can have in the Archives Division, right under Intern. He was an intern for six months before being promoted to junior researcher, and according to his personnel file, he's in-line for a promotion at his next review, which would have been around now." 

"Hmm, can you print out his file for me?"

"You think you'll see him again? If he's Torchwood, he's already signed the Official Secrets Act, so he won't be telling people about the weevil." 

"He was flirting with me, and he arrived just in the nick of time to help me. I suspect he wants a job and has no idea how to contact me since you blocked server access. I'm sure he's heard of my reputation and thinks flirting or sleeping with me will be a way to get his way in."

"Then he doesn't know you half as well as he thinks he does," Tosh commented. "You never sleep with your employees!" 

"True, Tosh, true. He is cute, though. Maybe I'd be able to convince him to be a fuck-buddy instead."

"You're awful!" Tosh giggled, a much rarer sound than her laughter. I loved hearing it. She didn't giggle nearly often enough.

"Just saying what I'd prefer," I replied with a grin I knew she could hear in my voice. Off all the members of my team, she's the only one I considered a friend at that time, and she knew me in ways the others didn't. Not that she knew about my immortality, but she kept some of my secrets and could read my emotions when I let her. "It's been a while since I've had a steady lover."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Jack, but his file only mentions relationships with women." 

"Like that's ever stopped me before!" I answered gleefully, already excited about the possibility of getting Ianto into my bed. She giggled again. "And may I remind you that _he_ was flirting with _me?"_

.

.

.

I spent two hours memorizing all the information Tosh was able to find me on Ianto Jones, then another few doing some digging of my own. There wasn’t much to find, but I found what was available. I discovered that during Ianto’s requisite psych testing for his job at Torchwood London he was given markers for depression, anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. He was also rated as a low-level empath. Low enough that he couldn’t be trained, according to them, though I doubted that. In my opinion, everyone with any level of psychic powers beyond the norm could, and _should,_ be trained. 

That he had depression and anxiety didn’t bother me. With his past of an abusive father, an emotionally absent (and mentally ill) mother, and being raised by a sister he rarely saw anymore, I’d be more concerned if he weren’t depressed or anxious. Depression ran in his family, anyway. The obsessiveness concerned me. How did it manifest? What did it mean? Was it a “run of the mill” cleanliness OCD, or something more specific and therefor potentially dangerous? I’d have to find out. 

I dug deeper. 

The abuse was never recognized officially, and he was never taken into care, but there was at least one broken bone as a child that looked suspicious enough for reports to be filed. His sister was now married with two children, living nearby. I checked CCTV feeds near her house and saw Ianto arriving back there thirty minutes after I left the park. 

OK, I knew where he was staying. That was good. 

There were no psychiatric records anywhere. This means that either he never saw anyone for the mental health issues Torchwood picked up upon immediately during the three hour long intake interview, or his records had been erased. If they’d been erased, he either knew someone very good, or he was very good himself. I checked his school records and found them lacking in detail. Again, someone must have gone through them to erase them. “Able but not exceptional,” the records said. Ha! Like I’d believe that. Torchwood London wouldn’t have hired him if he were just “able.” Something was being hidden. 

I called in a favor and got one of my contacts to acquire hard-copies of his school records. It would take a day or two, but I’d have them. I called in a second favor to see if I could get psychiatric records. That might take an entire week, this contact said. I still wanted the information. I left a note for Tosh to dig deeper into the Torchwood database. They had fail-safes to keep deleted data, she had told me once, and I planned on finding everything I could. 

Next I searched his credit and bank records, now that I knew a little more about him. Nothing out of the ordinary for a man his age. Actually, scratch that. He had an investment account that he monitored regularly. It wasn’t large, but it was growing steadily. He was a planner. That probably went along with the OCD. Depressed people didn’t tend to plan for the future, because they didn’t expect to be around or because they didn’t think things would get better, but obsessive people did, just in case. Perhaps it’s good that the obsessive side was stronger than the depressive side. I wondered how losing his girlfriend would impact his mental health. Would I need to find him a therapist like UNIT and I were arranging for the other survivors? It had only been a few days, and already one had killed himself and three others were in locked psychiatric units. 

Oh, and it looks like he’d bought an engagement ring for his girlfriend two months ago. Shit. If they were engaged, the emotional fallout of her death would hit him harder than if they were just dating. 

It was looking less and less likely that I would get him into bed, no matter what his pheromones were saying earlier. I decided to content myself with the memory of his scent and shut down my computer. Morning had broken while I researched him, and it was time for coffee. I might not need to sleep very often, but I lived on caffeine, when I could get it. The military hammered that into my brain. Take what you need when you can, otherwise, be prepared to go without. The same went for food and sex, of course. 

I grabbed my coat and went to the lift to the defunct tourist office. The better of the two nearby coffee shops was closer to that door rather than off the Plass and the invisible lift. 

.

.

.


	4. Morning Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack leaves the tourist office to find Ianto handing him a mug of coffee. Interesting...

I forgot to check the CCTV before I left the tourist office, so I was surprised to see one Ianto Jones standing out there waiting for me. I repressed the scowl that threatened. Didn’t he know it was rude to accost people before coffee?

Of course, if he wanted sex then I’d take him up on it, coffee or no coffee. The man was gorgeous, and I already knew I wanted him in my bed. 

Last night he looked like a regular young man dressed in a dark jacket and jeans. This morning he looked like a rent boy, or what he thought a rent boy should look like. White shirt open at the collar to reveal a cute necklace and a smattering of dark chest hair and creamy skin. His jeans were even tighter than the night before, if possible. 

_Willing!_ my cock shouted at me. It didn’t know many words, but the ones it did know... it used well and often. _He wants me,_ my libido cried, and as I drank him in with my eyes, I had to agree. Unlike the hesitation last night, the calculated flirting as I walked away, this outfit was a come-hither like none I’d seen in a long time from someone who wasn’t at a club looking for a quick shag. _Where is he going with this?_ I asked myself silently. _I hope it’s towards my bed._

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, and I had to resist smiling back at him. “Coffee?” 

_You read my mind,_ I thought, accepting the cup and taking a sip after a brief hesitation. A small part of me wondered if there was more to him than meets the eye. Why would he find me so quickly, otherwise? How would he knew where to find me? What did someone from Torchwood London want with me, anyway? Was the shoe about to drop? 

Still, I couldn’t help but exclaim over the coffee. It melted in my mouth with a richness of flavor I’d never known coffee could have. “Wow!” I handed to cup back to him, waiting to find out his real agenda. (I knew it couldn’t just be about bringing me a coffee, much as that thought pained my ego.) 

“I want to work for you,” he declared. 

I knew it. The shoe dropped. It wasn’t about sex or coffee. It was about a job I didn’t have to offer him, and wouldn’t offer him before I knew more about him. I still had at least a week before my second source got back to me with psychiatric records, and there was no way I’d even consider hiring him without the full dossier on who he was. I declined his request. 

He practically begged to work for me, offering to work without pay. Alarms sounded in my head. This kid was dangerous. No one, and I mean _no one,_ would offer to work for nothing if they weren’t desperate, and I have more than enough experience with desperation, both mine and other people’s. I didn’t need that kind of hassle. Not on my team, and not in my bed. 

_You want him,_ my traitorous libido whispered. _You won’t hire him because you want him. You hired Tosh, and she was desperate to save her mother, to get away from UNIT. You hired Owen when he was desperate after losing Katie and everyone thought grief had driven him mad. The only difference is that you didn’t want to shag them._

When he grabbed my shoulder to turn me around, and then, later, when he put his hand on my chest to stop me from walking away, I felt the spark of desire like a lightning bolt. 

Yes, I wanted him. _God,_ I wanted him. 

There was no way I could offer him a job now, not and keep my principles. Admittedly, they were a lot looser than most people’s, but I’d had more than enough of office romances in my time, and none had been with a subordinate. Thanks to Lucia, there were lines I wasn’t willing to cross again, and sleeping with a coworker had become one such line. 

_So don’t give him a job and just fuck him,_ my libido told me. _You’ll enjoy it, he’ll enjoy it. It’s a win-win situation._

His parting comment about my coat, less calculated than before but still recognizably distant from true flirting, reminded me I needed time to make a decision, either way. Sleep with him or hire him? 

I knew what my body wanted, and as I analyzed my heart, I got the same answer. _He could be the stability I need,_ I remember thinking. _He could be the port in the storm, the hearth to come home to, the outside person who knows Torchwood, that I can talk to, who won’t betray my secrets but will understand the stress of my job. He could be my lover, a real lover, not just someone to take to bed every now and then. _

He could be very good for me, and I, in turn, could be very good for him. I’d take care of him, make sure he had a nice place to live, free time, money, anything he wants, as long as he’d be there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on after a long day of bad choices I didn’t want to make. I could help him get over his grief, his pain. I’d make sure he got therapy if he needs it, doctor’s visits, whatever else. 

_I’d love him so much more than he can imagine being loved,_ I thought, startling myself, not knowing where that came from. But it was there, in my head, in my heart, waiting to be let out. 

_I could easily love that man, if only he gives me a chance._

.

.

.


	5. Jack's Stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack acquires a stalker... we all know who he is.

Ianto followed me everywhere that entire day. I don’t know how he did it, but everywhere I went, there he was, asking for a job, flirting, looking delectable. It was making me mad. I didn’t want to have to deal with him and his obsessiveness right now. I had a memorial to plan, thanks to Yvonne’s carelessness. I had survivors to look after. Cover stories to create. Of course, he was one of the survivors, but I didn’t want to actually have to _know_ them. I wanted them to be numbers and names on a sheet of paper, and he was making that distinctly difficult.

Mind you, the non-stop fantasies going through my head didn’t help, either, and I spent the entire day half-hard. And when I wasn’t fantasizing about sex, I was fantasizing about what it would be like to be his lover, to have him in my life as my support, as my partner, as my equal. 

As much as a 21st Century man _could_ be my equal, coming from the future as I did. 

Now, you might wonder how I could hold that fantasy in my head even as I rejected him. I’ve spent hundreds of years developing an ability to hold two (or more) conflicting thoughts or feelings in my mind at the same time. And I’m very good at shutting away feelings that would get in the way of me doing my job. It’s the only way I can do what needs to get done, sometimes. The only way I can function. How else would I have been able to _give away children_ to aliens back in the 60’s? They picked me to do it because they thought I didn’t care, but the truth of the matter is that I didn’t let myself care while I did it, then broke down afterwards. The guilt still haunts me, the shame of doing it. But I keep it locked away in a far part of my head. I’d be unable to function, otherwise, given all the things I’ve been compelled to do. 

But back to Ianto. That day, I fantasized about sex with him. I imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to caress him, to peel layers of clothing off as I peeled away layers of control to get down to his real emotions, his passion. I imagined taking him on satin sheets under the moonlight with nothing but ourselves to concern us. I knew that he was conflicted about his desire. That much was clear. And if he’s mourning his girlfriend and feeling attracted to me… well, 21st Century morals would tell him he’s wrong to feel that way, that it’s a betrayal of her to want me so soon after her death. 

And he _did_ want me. The pheromones were clear on that. 

At the coffee shop he told me he’d make me the best coffee I’d ever tasted each morning and whenever I wanted it if only I’d hire him. And since he’d already demonstrated his skills in that area, I actually paused and considered for the briefest of moments, the coffee shop’s slightly overboiled offering in my hands. I reined myself in and walked away. 

At the cafe he offered to do all my errands for me, so that I wouldn’t have to go out to pick up lunch unless I wanted to. He promised to get my order correct every time, to anticipate when I’d need chips in addition to the sandwich or pizza. 

At a tech retrieval site he informed me that he would keep our kit stocked, since he noticed that I’d run out of specimen bags. He’s very organized, he said, and he would make sure we had any supplies we needed on hand. Stationary, weapons, food, everything. 

At the underground garage he said he’d do all the driving, day or night. He stressed the word “night,” drawing out the word with his Welsh vowels. I think he’d figured out by then that I loved the accent. He would make sure we got everywhere we needed to be on time, early, in fact, with coffee. He was beginning to convince me, especially since he handed me a full Thermos of his amazing coffee. I couldn’t help but drink it. 

Each time he confronted me, I told him to leave me alone, that I didn’t need his help, and that there was no place for him on my team. I wasn’t ready to tell him that I wouldn’t hire him because I wanted sex, or whatever else my heart told me I wanted that I studiously pretended not to think about. Nor was I ready tell him I knew that his records had been altered and I was waiting for the real ones to appear in my hand. Around six I finally managed to escape him by leaving the SUV and heading out on foot into an area of the city he probably wouldn’t like hanging around to see my first contact. 

Someone had altered his records, that’s for sure. He had an eidetic memory, a huge asset for an archivist or researcher. Torchwood London would have considered hiring him just for that. He was young enough, right out of university, to be trained, indoctrinated in their ways. I rolled my eyes at Yvonne’s tactics in hiring him for the Archive Division. He’d remember every single thing he read, so his usefulness would increase each year, though his pay packet might not. 

In terms of primary and secondary school, his grades plunged after his mother’s death, when he started getting into trouble in the streets, but after an arrest for shoplifting and what I assumed was a beating from his father that landed him in hospital for two days, his grades picked up again. I doubted that he’d stopped stealing, though. That likely didn’t change until he moved to London after his father’s death for university, when he got his first bank account and deposited several thousand pounds more than his inheritance. There was no unaccounted money after that, and it seemed he settled down into a life of short-term jobs to support his education until he finished university and was hired by Torchwood. Hmm, having someone accomplished at pickpocketing might be an asset to my team… but, no, I wasn’t seriously considering him for that. I had other, more — _interesting_ — positions for him…

I thanked (and paid) my contact and left the pub, searching for a way to scratch the itch my libido had become. Usually I could keep it under control, but today was something else. I knew where to go to find what I needed. The so far missing-in-action that night Ianto Jones wouldn’t keep me from my desires, and I didn’t want his mystery anyway, no matter how sexy his ass and accent. Or so I told myself as I crossed the street towards a likely candidate. 

I got the call that there was Rift activity just as I finished explaining to the young, dark-haired Welsh prostitute that he would be “Ianto” for the next hour while I fucked him. Needless to say, I didn’t get my fuck. 

Damn, but Ianto was under my skin! 

.

.

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	6. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Ianto's first time together.

For the first time all day, I was exactly where I wanted to be: On my back with Ianto Jones lying on top of me, our erections grinding together, his lips a hair’s breath away from mine and our eyes locked in an erotic dance. The only thing that could have made the moment better was if we were naked. And if we were in a bed, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I knew that I’d get him into a bed after the first frantic fuck on the floor of the warehouse that his eyes were demanding of me. His body language was screaming “fuck me.”

Our mutual desire now clear, all I needed was that final go-ahead saying that yes, this is what he wanted. An erection just wasn’t enough, and by all that’s holy, I needed his approval to do something more. An eye-fuck wasn’t good enough, either, no matter how many other signals he was giving me. In this century and the ones preceding it, I learned the hard way to let the other man tell me he wanted to do something, to reassure me that he wouldn’t take offense, or, worse yet, hurt me. Just because I couldn’t stay dead doesn’t mean things didn’t _hurt_ , and I’d been killed more often than I like to remember for coming on to a man in the wrong place or time.

Not that I thought Ianto would hurt me. No matter what else was going on, no matter what else he was hiding, Ianto Jones wasn’t a violent man. A word, a kiss, a touch to my cheek or hip, anything would have worked for me… but he remained still, tasting my breath and pheromones but not doing anything to move things along. Damn it, what more did I need to do to get him to make the next move?

I tilted up my chin in challenge, daring him to kiss me, while at the same time telling him that I would reciprocate if he offered. I could feel the tremor in his body. I could read the desire in his eyes and the hesitancy of kissing another man, a stranger, someone he’d been stalking for the last day. I licked my lips and parted them slightly in invitation.

The next thing I knew, he was kissing me, with lips and tongue and teeth, one hand behind my head and in my hair, the other stroking my cheek. This was, by far, the best first kiss I’d ever experienced. He was eager and enthusiastic and he tasted oh, so _good!_

Before long the intensity jumped a notch and I found myself pulling off his tie and unbuttoning a few buttons of his shirt so I could kiss and nibble on his neck. I took advantage of his distraction and rolled us so that I was on top, his head falling back to the floor to give me greater access as I cushioned him with a hand in his hair. I sucked on his collarbone and he gasped. His hands pulled my shirts free of my trousers and he stroked up my chest, over my nipples, down my back as he thrashed against me. I chuckled and started in on his ear. By now his shirt was completely open and I could run my fingers through that wonderful chest hair I had but glimpsed that morning on the quay.

He flipped us again, straddling me, working my belt open and my fly down. I could feel the heat of his arousal against mine and thrust upwards, rubbing against him. Then his hands were down the front of my trousers as he captured my mouth again. He touched me with the usual hesitancy of someone with a new lover, and while that sort of thing might have bothered me in the past, with him it was exactly what I wanted. Mind you, I had absolutely no hesitation when I opened his trousers and took his erection in hand, cupping his balls and stroking along his length, running my thumb over the tip. He shuddered and I could see him fighting to keep from coming too soon. The look on his face was priceless, wanton, desperate for release and struggling against it, wanting the pleasure to last longer.

We were quickly reaching the point of no return, and there was that one niggling question that had to be asked, loathe it as I do. But he didn’t know I had no need to ask, and in this century it’s polite to ask, so as he let go of my cock to sit up and shuck off his suit jacket and shirt, I smiled breathlessly and plunged in, hoping, as I always did, that I’d found a lover who didn’t insist on latex. With his enthusiasm for the task, I thought he might be willing. (Though considering the OCD tendencies, I might be in for a rude awakening. Still, I was going to ask.)

“I’m clean,” I gasped. “And I know you are, too, so we don’t need to use condoms unless…” He tensed, and not in a good way. “…you’d…” His eyes widened in sudden realization of what we were about to do. “…prefer…” I trailed off, the light bulb going off in my head as I interpreted the look in his eyes.

“You’ve never been with a man before, have you?” I blurted inelegantly. The hesitation when he touched me before? It wasn’t about starting something with a new lover, it was about me being a man! Shit, I really didn’t want him to be a virgin to this. But, on second thought, even without experience, he kissed like a dream and didn't seem at all upset by finding a cock between my legs. Actually, he seemed to be enjoying it… Oh, the things I could teach him…

He shook his head, nervousness morphing into slight panic. “Am I doing it wrong?” he demanded anxiously. I could hear uncertainty in his voice, the desire to please, the fear that he’d messed up and ruined everything. The worry that I’d make us stop. He sat there on top of me, his shirt still hanging open, though he didn’t make a move to take it off. Or put it back on. I would accept indecision. That was good. That wasn’t outright rejection.

“You’re doing great!” I reassured him. “Really, really great. I didn’t know until just now.” I met his eyes straight on, trying to convey my sincerity and acceptance of the situation, that I was just as ready to continue as he was. I settled both my hands on his thighs. He remained straddling me, his erection softening slightly.

“Why are you stopping?” he asked, and there were tears of frustration in his lust-blown eyes. “I don’t want you to stop!” He gripped my shirt tightly, shaking me a little. Oh, he wanted to continue! Good. Very good.

I shook my head and smiled up at him, running my hands up and down his thighs in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. “If this is going to be your first time with a man, we’re doing it properly,” I told him in no uncertain terms.

“Properly?” he repeated, not understanding what I implied.

“On a bed, naked, with more lube than I have with me,” I clarified. “I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t have what we need to make it comfortable for a first time. Where’s your flat?” (In the heat of the moment I forgot the answer I already knew, but he didn’t need to know how much I already knew about him, how much I’d researched him.)

“London,” he answered, a blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’m staying with my sister here. I can’t bring you back there… I’m not — um — She doesn’t know — um — _I_ didn’t know —”

 _How adorable,_ I thought. _He didn’t know he was attracted to men before me… I hope you’re as quick a study as you seem to be, Ianto Jones._

Yes, my ego was quite alive in that moment. When I have the time and inclination for it, I love introducing people to sex. I’m good, and I have no problems saying it. I like to think that I’m giving them a gift they can give to everyone else they’re with after me. There’s nothing like giving someone pleasure like they’ve never known before and knowing they’re so blissed out because of you and what you’ve been doing to them, with them. Ianto was well on his way to the erotic education of his lifetime.

“Then we’ll have to go to mine,” I said, wishing for the first time in a long while that I had a nicer flat. I lived at the Hub, I’d reasoned when I chose it, and didn’t need it for more than a place to have an occasional shag. But Ianto Jones wasn’t going to be an occasional shag, if I had any say in the matter, so I’d need to do some looking around, find a better place. At least the cleaning service had been by that week!

“We’ll have to take care of this before we can move, right?” I asked, squeezing his erection gently. He was fully hard again, and grinned as he nodded. I kissed him, sitting up while I did it until I could press him down on his back. He groaned loudly when I pulled his trousers down and began licking and sucking on his cock.

“Oh, God!” he moaned. “How do you do that? Feels so good!”

I laughed quietly and continued, not bothering to answer beyond a whispered, “Tastes even better.” (Which he did.)

Ianto did not disappoint. His first orgasm of the night filled my mouth and had me swallowing twice over. Ah, youth! I have biology and evolution on my side in these kinds of situations, but Ianto was young and horny, two things that would give him the stamina to keep up with me. Fantastic, as the Doctor would say.

“Come on, let’s get this pterodactyl of yours taken care of and we’ll head over to mine,” I said when he was relaxed and ready to move again, knowing I’d be able to last without relief to get the job done if I needed to. I didn’t want to push him to reciprocate the blow job if he wasn’t ready. (Though he kissed me quite thoroughly after I’d blown him, meaning he wasn’t _adverse_ to the taste of cum. His own, anyway. Still, there was time tonight, so I wasn’t too concerned I’d go without.)

The feeling of needing to do everything for him that I’d had the night before crept back into my head, making me slightly paranoid. _Did he really want this? Would he be willing to go to my flat with me? Would he be willing to let me take care of him?_ I paused, trying to gauge his reaction to everything that had just happened. “If you still want to, that is.”

“Oh, I want to,” he murmured, leaning over to lick my ear. “There’s nothing I want more than to feel you inside me, Jack,” he whispered, and the words combined with his hands on my cock and the throatiness of his voice as he said my name sent me over the edge.

 _Damn it! Where did my control go?_ It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had me coming, but he didn’t know how long I could usually last, so I ignored it for the moment. I panted for a few moments as he kissed down my neck and gave me a love-bite just under my collar. Then he surprised me by licking his hands clean. He didn’t go near my cock, but that was fine. Again, there was time for that later, and that he was willing to taste my cum indicated that he’d probably be willing to do it again, if the expression on his face was any clue. He looked like he was enjoying the taste, and the expression in his eyes told me he was watching my reaction closely.

 _Oh, Ianto Jones, you’re going to be a delight to bed, aren’t you?_ I thought, a smirk on my lips as I enjoyed the little show.

We put ourselves back together, gathered up the pterodactyl, and climbed into the SUV, images of what I would do to him dancing in both our heads.

 _This one is special,_ I told myself, not quite knowing why, though I had an idea that I didn’t want to think about. _This one is for keeps._

.

.

.

“Just so you know, I’m letting you into the base to help with this thing, but this isn’t a job offer,” I told Ianto as we carried the unconscious pterodactyl to the invisible lift. He didn’t reply immediately, his concentration on keeping his footing.

“We’re still going to yours, though?” he asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice, coupled with nervousness, making me smile.

“Definitely,” I replied, grinning. There was no way I’d let him go back to his sister’s after what had happened in the warehouse. Especially after the teasing way in which he’d licked my cum off his fingers. You don’t tease Jack Harkness like that and expect to get away from him without getting fucked… Back at my flat we’d see what Mr. Jones was capable of, of that I had no doubts. I had a feeling that he was a natural at all of it.

We set down the dinosaur, tarp and all, on the slab and I straddled her. She was starting to wake up and move around a little, and I didn’t want to take any chances of her flying away while on the lift. Ianto settled on top of her, mimicking my pose. “Do you trust me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately, and I could tell he was answering more than one question. Yes, he trusted me about the pterodactyl. Yes, he trusted me about the invisible lift. Yes, he trusted that I wouldn’t retcon him for seeing the base if I said I wouldn’t. Yes, he trusted me with his body for sex.

“Good.” I pressed the button on my vortex manipulator to lower us, setting it to move slower than usual. I didn’t want to startle either one of them. Our eyes met as the stone began to move. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his gaze softened. He licked his lips, inviting me closer in the same way I’d done an hour ago. I scooted forward and kissed him. He gripped my arm and kissed me back. All the passion and desire we shared in the warehouse came flooding back into my system, and I marveled at the fact that I was sitting on a prehistoric beast kissing the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my long life as we descended into my secret lair of a base, half an hour away from taking him to bed.

_Goddess, I loved my life!_

We broke away from each other when the stone settled to a stop on the floor. His cheeks were pink again, and we both needed a moment to catch our breath. I watched as he looked around, and I could see his archivist’s mind cataloging the various alien artifacts littered about. I decided to test him.

“Stay here,” I told him. “I’m going to get a few things. Make sure she doesn’t move.” He nodded, and I caught him watching my arse as I walked away. Fifteen minutes later, he hadn’t moved from his place on top of the pterodactyl, though she was moving more and more. I injected another dose of the sedative.

“Is it safe to give her more of that?” Ianto asked, climbing off her after I gave permission. I’d watched him on the CCTV for a few minutes while I was away from him, and he hadn’t moved from his perch, though he continued looking around. It was a good sign that he was able to follow orders.

“Safe enough. I need her out for this next part.” I handed him a small piece of tech. “Seen one of these before?”

He examined it for a minute, turning it in his fingers before handing it back. “I haven’t,” he admitted. He paused and met my eyes. “Should I have?”

“No, since I made it myself.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t try to fake it, then, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “I haven’t seen much of the tech you have on display, if you’re wondering, though I have some theories about a few of the more common-seeming pieces.”

“You were in the Archives at the Tower. I’d expect you to be able to make some connections.”

“I thought this wasn’t a job offer,” he murmured.

“It’s not.” _At least not for the job you’re thinking of,_ I thought. _You’ve already got a place in my bed. We decided that earlier. Now I just need to know how far I can trust you._ “I’m going to put this under her skin right here,” I said, pointing. “It will help me toilet-train her.”

“How does it work?”

“Sonic technology,” I explained as I got to work. “This will act like one of those anti-barking dog collars that have become popular lately. Only it won’t actually shock her. I’ll program it to her brain patterns and set up a regimen to teach her where it’s acceptable to leave her business. If I have time, I might even be able to train her to do other things. Once she’s fully-trained, I can remove it.”

“Sonic technology? The only sonic thing I’ve heard of is the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver. It is like that?”

I blinked, letting my Captain mask fall into place. Working at the Tower I knew he’d be aware of the Doctor, but I didn’t expect the topic to come up so quickly. I wondered if he’d know the rumors that I traveled with the Doctor. If he knew, I might have to retcon him, sex or no sex. I couldn’t let someone who knows about my relationship with the Doctor loose on the world. He could hurt too many people with that knowledge, hurt me with that knowledge. I’ve been tortured far too many times by people who knew about that.

He must have noticed the change in my manner, because he sat up stiffly, tugging on his cuffs to straighten them.

“Before we go any farther, Jack, I need to tell you that I don’t hold with the usual Torchwood policy towards the Doctor. Few of us in the Archives did, for that matter. We know he’s saved the planet on countless occasions, and if I ever have the honor to meet him, I’ll thank him for doing it. I also know that you’ve traveled with him. The records about him are extensive, and I’ve seen pictures of the two of you in Cardiff together.”

He took a deep breath and continued. “I want you to be able to trust me, Jack, whether it’s as an employee or as something else. I will gladly keep whatever secret you see fit to tell me. And I’ll keep the secrets you haven’t told me that I already know about you.”

“How many people know?” I choked out, sure he was talking about my immortality. So far, I’d been able to keep it from Tosh, Owen and Suzie, but Yvonne had known. Most of the higher-echelon Torchwood people had known. That he, a mere junior researcher, knew scared the piss out of me.

“Of the survivors, only me, I’d wager,” he said softly. “Again, those of us in the Archives know more than one might think. I should probably tell you that I researched you before I came here.”

I laughed, finally relaxing now that he was being completely honest. He smiled tentatively.

“And what did you find out, Ianto Jones?” I asked, batting my eyelashes at him flirtatiously, deliberately using his name to draw him out even farther.

“Honestly? Not much. The servers were down by the time I remembered about the Cardiff offices, but I found a few files in the rubble. They talked about your recruitment and some of your early cases as an uncontracted agent.” He let his shoulders slump. “It sounds like a horrible time for you. It sounds like you carry a horrible burden, just by living.” He reached over and touched my hand. “I’ll do what I can to lighten it, if you want.” I blinked back a sudden tear and pulled my hand away. I rebuilt my mask.

“We need to finish this,” I said decisively. He nodded silently, not meeting my eyes. Without words, we moved the pterodactyl off the lift to a safer place for her.

He knew about the torture I’d survived at the hands of Alice and Emily. He knew I couldn’t die. He knew, and he wasn’t running! He wasn’t running, and he was offering support! Shit, this was unheard of. No one had ever expressed sympathy for my condition, for what I’ve been through. No one had ever implied that it was anything other than wonderful, when for me it was a whole other kind of torture.

Ianto Jones was special, of that I had no doubt. There was no way I could have him working for me, knowing what he knew. I needed him to be away from all this. I needed him for me, so I could have to comfort he offered. He’d be wasted at Torchwood, even at my Torchwood. I needed him to be safe, and Torchwood isn’t safe. The average age of an active Torchwood field agent at the time of death is 27. That wouldn’t give us much time together, since all Torchwood agents would be field agents, now that Canary Wharf fell.

Ianto Jones, a twenty-three year old Welshman, could be the answer to my loneliness. He already understood me in ways no one else could. He already wanted me…even though he knew any relationship we had would be doomed, that I would outlive him by decades, centuries. He knew he wouldn’t be my last lover, and still he was offering himself to me!

I had to think. I had to decide how far to let him in. I had to see if it would be safe to love him… Not that I could have stopped loving him, even then, though I didn’t know it yet…

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he offered.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I let it out, opening my eyes to meet his. “Come home with me,” I whispered.

.

.

.

Ianto and I rode in silence to my flat. I spent the time trying to get myself out of Captain-space and back into a mood for sex. Usually, I can jump from one to the other in a split second, but Ianto startled me by talking about the Doctor. And he startled me even more by knowing about my immortality and wanting to help me deal with the pain of it. I glanced over at him a few times, but he was staring out the window.

I parked the SUV and pulled the keys from the ignition, turning to him with a slightly crooked smile on my face. “I don’t spend much time here,” I warned him. “So don’t get your hopes up about a luxurious flat.”

He glanced over at me before shrugging. “As long as it has the bed you were promising,” he answered, offering a small smile in return. I could see the lust simmering behind his eyes and it sparked my own, sending me back into that happy place I’d been looking for. We entered the building side-by-side.

As soon as the door to the flat closed behind us, I took him in my arms and kissed him, pressing his back against the wall. We stood there kissing in the dark and running our hands over each other’s clothed bodies to ease the hunger for a few minutes before he asked for the tour. With a chuckle I flipped the light switch.

“You weren’t kidding. I had better flats in Uni!” he exclaimed, amusement in his voice. “To think, this is where Jack Harkness lives,” he murmured. I watched him take in the small kitchen, the dining table and pair of chairs, the large bed with matching nightstands. I felt a moment of insecurity. Maybe I should have a bigger couch? A bigger television? There was room, barely, unless I got a flatscreen, and somehow, if I was going to spend the money on that, I felt like I’d want to put it in a better looking place than this. His eyes scanned the bookshelves, and he took a step towards them before he remembered where he was. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing at the table. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“Okaaaay… I doubt I have coffee in, though.”

“That’s OK. I brought my own,” he said, a rather smug smile on his lips. He removed his suit jacket and draped it over the chair opposite the one I chose. He hefted the small carryall I hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying and walked to the kitchen.

As I watched, Ianto rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved around the kitchen gracefully, opening cabinets and drawers, examining the contents of the refrigerator, and, finally pulling several items from his bag, including a small thermos and a air-tight jar of coffee grounds. He cleaned to coffee machine, tutting softly over its simplicity and the sort of filters I used. Without pausing, he started washing mugs and spoons and various other bits of mismatched crockery from my cabinets. I waited.

“I’m a bit nervous,” he admitted as he set a mug of coffee in front of me and took the seat opposite me with his own. “Coffee calms me. I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“What kind of thing?” I asked, sipping my coffee. It was just what I needed, and somehow he knew I was in the mood for cream, which must have been in the thermos because I knew I didn’t have any in the fridge.

“Having sex with a stranger.”

“You’re more nervous about that than having sex with a man?” I wondered aloud.

“I find myself thinking that the sex of one’s partner isn’t as important as the person him- or herself. You have a way of expanding the horizons of other people about you. Besides, I trust you to know what you’re doing with someone like me,” he answered. Then he smiled brightly. “And if it’s anything like what was going on at the warehouse, I’d be an idiot to stop now. That was fantastic!”

I grinned at him and reached for his hand. I stroked my thumb over the back of his hand, and he started relaxing immediately. “How do I become ‘not a stranger,’ Ianto?”

“I’m not sure. We’d have to spend time together, I guess.”

“Before or after sex?”

He blinked a few times, processing my question. “Um, well, sex is a way to get to know each other, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“So, by having sex with you, that makes you not a stranger anymore.”

“I can live with that logic.” I tugged on his hand gently and maneuvered us to the bed. We sat down, our hands still clasped. I traced his cheekbone with the fingers of my other hand, and he closed his eyes as I caressed him. I pulled him forward into a brief but passionate kiss. His hands settled on my thighs and he shifted closer. We kissed more deeply.

“Can we talk about the condom thing again?” he asked a few minutes later when he realized he’d been rubbing my erection through the cloth of my trousers. I’d kept up the small, intimate touches to his face and head, enjoying the opportunity to have time to be like that with a lover after several years of relatively meaningless and most certainly emotionless sex. Not to mention the sex I’d paid for, but that was a whole other can of worms I wasn’t going to be thinking about that night. If Ianto wanted me, really wanted me, I had the feeling I wouldn’t need to seek release anywhere else for as long as we were together.

“Sure.” I pulled back so we could see each other’s expressions during the talk.

“You said you were clean, and it seems you prefer not to use them… Is it your condition that keeps you safe?”

“A combination of that, evolution and inoculation. I had a job once that made sure I wouldn’t be able to catch most of the illnesses humans can catch throughout the universe. The ones I can catch haven’t been developed yet.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re from the 51st Century,” he stated. We both knew the answer, so I didn’t respond. “It’s been a while since I’ve had sex without condoms. Except for the girlfriend before Lisa, who was on the pill, I always used them. Lisa really didn’t want to get pregnant, so we used them and she took birth control pills.”

“Reasonable. Unwanted and unexpected pregnancies can cause all kinds of emotional and relational upheavals between people.”

“A girlfriend I was seeing in Uni tried to claim that a condom broke when she got pregnant. It turns out she was cheating on me and thought I had better prospects for a job than the real father of the child.”

“You figured it out?”

“He confronted me for trying to steal away his woman and child. I got the picture, dumped her, and moved on. Brigitte and I were exclusive for the short time we dated, then I met Lisa. Lisa and I were exclusive, though we talked about the possibility of other people, just in case one of us was attracted to someone else, because I didn’t want a repeat of the thing with Veronica. I wanted us to be able to talk about it in the open rather than go behind each other’s backs.”

_He was talking a lot about past lovers and their relationships. Was this a good sign? What did it mean for what we were going to do? Was he going to ask me to only be with him? I had no idea what I’d say if he did. Part of me wanted to agree, but that was ridiculous, since we hadn’t even slept together yet! Were we getting into a relationship? Were we dating? Shit, it’s been too long since I’ve actually dated someone. I’m not sure I know the rules!_

He sighed. “I’m a one lover at a time person, Jack. That’s what I like and prefer. That way my partner gets all my attention, romantically, anyway. You should know that about me.”

“I’m not,” I said cautiously.

“I know. I wouldn't expect you to be,” he said seriously. “I mean, even if half of what was said about you around the water cooler was true, it would be ridiculous to think you’d be monogamous. I don’t think it would bother me as long as we talk about it.”

“That’s very modern thinking of you.” We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. “I don’t always have more than one lover,” I explained, part of me wanting — needing — him to accept me. “In fact, I usually prefer to only have one, but I need the option to be available. I need to be able to flirt and take it as far as it goes. It’s about me needing the freedom to be me. I’ve tried being monogamous and it doesn’t work well for either of us. I get resentful, angry. I withdraw, and it sours everything.”

“So, what if we decided that I’d be faithful to you and you had the option for being with other people, though there’s not an expectation that you’d definitely do it or not do it? If you’re sure you can’t catch or carry anything, I think I’d be willing to forgo condoms for the time being.”

“That sounds better than I expected would come of this conversation,” I said, kissing him again. He melted into the kiss, pulling me down on top of him as he laid back. I crawled over him, positioning him as I went so that he was sprawled out in the center of the bed. I started undoing his shirt buttons for the second time that night. He pulled his lips away from mine for a moment.

“Jack? One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I really hope you’re as good as your reputation says,” he growled as he pulled me into another kiss and started in on taking off our clothes. I just laughed and prepared to show him a night of adventure he’d never forget.

.

.

.

Ianto’s second orgasm of the night impressed me even more than the first had, accompanied as it was by a hoarse cry of my name and an almost impossible to bear tightening around my cock. I let go, spilling into him as he shot across my sheets. We collapsed into a tangled heap of arms and legs and torsos, each of us delirious with pleasure and short of breath. I rolled him to his back so I could kiss his lips again after the enforced distance while I fucked him from behind. (Not the position I would have chosen for a first time, but he wanted “the classic experience,” so I went along with it. The way I saw it, we’d have much more time for other things.)

We lay there for half an hour, just kissing and cuddling, nuzzling necks and trailing fingers along overheated skin. He dozed while I watched him, enjoying the unguarded expression on his face. He woke up to find me still looking at him and the first thing he did was whisper my name through a sleepy smile as he touched my face gently. The look in his eyes was remarkably similar to love, though I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and convinced myself that it was just the wonder of a new relationship and a _very thorough fuck_. I returned the smile and kissed him.

And, no, I didn’t take the time to consider the look in my eyes and how close it was to what I was seeing in his. I hadn’t admitted I loved him yet, that night, though looking back, I did.

We showered together, mostly because I’d “forgotten” to clean us up, and enjoyed the hot water and soapy skin as I showed him the glory of a good scalp massage. (He’d never had one before, and certainly never had one while naked, and even more certainly never had one that turned into another round of sex.) He appreciated my thoroughness.

As we lay in bed after the shower, he started asking questions about sex between men, and what else we might do. We even touched on some of the kinkier kinds of sex we might try, and he enthusiastically chose a safeword in preparation. Everything felt so good and natural, he told me, despite us both being men, and I answered that that’s how sex should feel, no matter the gender of one’s partner. We talked for several hours, about that and other things, before a third round, and he enjoyed it just as much as all the others, if not more, since this time I managed to keep him on his back so I could see the expression on his face when he came. I think I convinced him it was worth repeating.

Depending on how long this thing lasted, I might even consider letting him top me, not something I feel comfortable allowing all that often. But if he’s going to be more than just a shag, I reasoned, there’s no logical purpose to keeping the sex “one-way.” It would feel good to trust someone enough to let them top me. It’s been far too long.

And if Ianto were that person… I’d be a happy man.

.

.

.

I must have dozed off at some point during the night, because the next thing I knew, my mobile was ringing. Ianto shifted with me as I snagged it from the nightstand. I checked caller ID and frowned.

“Owen,” I said curtly, hoping to discourage him from a long conversation. Unfortunately a yawn interrupted me, and my jaw cracked loudly enough that I’m sure he heard it.

“Where the fuck are you and why is there a bleeding _dinosaur_ in the Hub?” he demanded angrily. “And do you have any idea that it’s past ten in the morning?”

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” I teased, my free hand running along Ianto’s arm. His skin puckered with gooseflesh. “I left a note explaining.”

“Yeah, Tosh showed me. ‘She likes cod and I’ll potty-train her soon.’ Isn’t. Enough. Information! She shat on my head!” I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up, and I let Owen curse himself out. It gave me the opportunity to kiss Ianto a few times. I don’t think Owen noticed.

I sat up and tried to straighten my sleep- and sex-mussed hair. Ianto grumbled quietly about the cold. He pulled the duvet closer around himself and thus off me, so I lay back down and wrapped myself around him. He started kissing my neck until I sighed in pleasure.

“Wait, are you with someone?” Owen growled, having finally wound down enough to pay attention. “Did you drop this thing off and go out on the pull? That’s — that’s just irresponsible! What if it had ruined Tosh’s station? What if it had shat all over Suzie’s research?”

Before I could respond, Ianto grabbed my phone. “He’ll be back with you in an hour,” he told Owen. He closed the phone and tossed it to the nightstand. It started ringing. “Ignore it,” he said, kissing me hard. “Take me one more time before we have to leave.”

After a quick tumble in the sheets and an even quicker shower, I got dressed. Ianto, propped up in bed with all the pillows holding him up comfortably, watched with dazed eyes. Clearly, he was still recovering from the sex. Good. I walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Will you stay until later?” I asked softly. I traced his cheekbone with my fingers, like I’d done the night before, and he leaned into the caress again. _It seems that he likes the small, affectionate touches. I’ll have to remember that,_ I promised myself.

“You want me to stay?” he responded, clearly both surprised and touched. “I didn’t expect —”

I graced him with the tender smile I rarely let out. “We talked about it yesterday, Ianto. I can tell that you don’t want a one-night stand and I’m willing to offer you more than that. Stay, please. I’d like to know you’ll be here when I get off work tonight.”

His lips twitched upwards and I could see a shy, yet brilliant smile forming. “I’ll make supper,” he offered. “Are you allergic to anything? Is there anything you wouldn’t want to eat?”

It took me a moment to understand what he was asking. In my time, allergies to food have been eliminated, so it’s not something I think of naturally. And I’d spent far too many years in the army, jail, or being tortured to have any qualms about what I ate. I ate when I needed to, and that was that. I didn’t think about food often, except when I could apply it to sex, or when it was particularly good. And lately, I’d just been eating whatever the others wanted in terms of takeaway at work. Tosh would bring me coffee and a muffin or something when she came in, and we’d always order lunch and supper from one of the various takeaway places we liked. They all knew our order, so we just had to tell them our name.

I tilted my head to the side as I regarded him. He was a curious man, and I still hadn’t figured him out yet. He was very open about talking about sex and relationship histories, but I knew nothing of his life in London, apart from what I got in that report. He hadn’t told me anything about his family, either, though he’d mentioned his sister. He had secrets, just as I did. I didn’t want to dig for them too hard, for that would encourage me to look at my own.

I trusted him, to a certain extent. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t betray me. That when he made love, when he bonded with someone in that fashion, he was loyal and devoted and anything one could want in a partner. Did I need to know his secrets? Did I want to risk this tentative thing we were building to find them out? The immediate answer was a very forceful _‘No!’_

Looking back, with the lies and betrayals and hurt behind me, I realize how naive I was. Me, naive? The intergalactic conman who could charm his way into and out of the Palace of Mironkili with the famed Rainbow Diamond in my hand, as well as the virtue of two of the princesses? Yes, I was naive. I trusted him far too quickly, and far too much. And more than that, I didn’t question that forceful ‘no’ that came into my head as soon as I thought about digging for his secrets. I didn’t make the connection with the note in his Torchwood file about his latent empathic ability, nor did I consider that he’d try to manipulate me using it.

But that morning, all I knew was that I was excited at the prospect of seeing him later, of eating a meal he prepared for me, of taking him to bed again. I imagined a future where I’d take him out to posh dinners and the theater and anywhere he wanted to go. I imagined waking up next to him every morning. I imagined a life with him that didn’t include Torchwood, that didn't include aliens and death and time travel and, dare I say it, didn’t include the Doctor. It was absolutely terrifying to have these thoughts after knowing him for only a day and a half.

I quickly put all those fantasies away and handed him a spare key to the flat and all the cash in my wallet. “No allergies and I’ll eat anything. I’ll see you tonight, around eight. If it’s any later I’ll call.”

I pecked him on the lips, intending to stand up and get to work, but he sighed appreciatively at the slight touch of our lips, so I had to kiss him deeper. We both got so lost in the kisses that my mobile ringing startled us. I pulled it out.

“Owen?”

“Lover Boy said you’d be here in an hour. That only gives you ten minutes. I know you, and I know what you’ve been doing, so stop it and get your arse out of bed and over here!”

“I’ll have you know that I’m dressed and just walking out now,” I told him, giving Ianto one last kiss. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

I flipped the phone closed. Ianto’s fingers lingered in my hand as I stood, and I squeezed them before releasing his hand. “Do you have my number? Just in case?” he asked.

“I’m Torchwood. Of course I have it,” I answered.

“Ah. Well, have a good day at the office, dear,” he said in a playful falsetto. I grinned in return, gave him yet another last kiss and left the flat, swishing my hips enticingly so that my coat swirled in the most provocative way.

I spent the whole ride to the Hub thinking about Ianto and our eventful first night together. It occurred to me that he might not be a bad fit with my particular brand of Torchwood, though I was still on the fence about putting him in danger. And, I reminded myself, I still didn’t have the psychiatric records I wanted. And, before you ask, I’ve gotten psych records on potential lovers both before and since him, so it’s not strange for me. I have to be careful about who I let stay in my bed longer than a night because they could be a danger, to either me or themselves. (I didn’t care about the flat or what was in it. Things can be replaced, people can’t. That’s what my father used to tell me before he died and my brother went missing, and he was right!) All my instincts were telling me to trust Ianto, so, at the time, that’s what I did.

I walked into the main area, still lost in thought. I must have had a just-got-shagged expression on my face because Tosh immediately blushed, Suzie snorted, and Owen grumbled. It sounded something suspiciously like ‘why does he get to come in late after a shag when I don’t?’

The pterodactyl swooped down towards us and everyone scattered. I opened my Vortex Manipulator and pressed a button. She stopped mid-dive and went back up to her perch on the upper gantries. I programed in a few simple commands and settled in for a day of training her.

“It’s safe to come out now,” I called to my team. They re-formed a semi circle around me. “So, what do you think of our new pet? I’ll train her to recognize our scents so she doesn’t attack us, and I’ll get her toilet-trained.”

“While you’re at it, can you make sure she doesn’t eat our food?” Tosh asked. “She charged me for my chocolate muffin this morning.”

“Apparently she’s fond of chocolate,” I reported with a small smile for Ianto who figured that out somehow. “I don’t know how to train her about what’s OK to eat and what’s not.”

“I can do it,” Suzie offered. “If we make a kind of sauce, like a barbecue sauce, and put it on everything we feed it, it’ll learn only to eat what had the sauce on it.”

“Excellent, that’s your next project,” I told her. “It has top priority. And remember, she’s a girl, not an it!” Suzie groaned, but went to her station to begin her research. “Owen, I’ll get her down here so you can check her medically. She’s very far out of her time, and I’ll need to know if there are certain minerals she needs or can’t have, how our air quality will effect her, that sort of thing.”

“I’ve already showered once since I’ve been here. I won’t go near her unless you promise she won’t do anything again.”

“I’ll do what I can. We can always sedate her, though I had to give her two doses last night and don’t want to have to do it again if we can avoid it.” He nodded and went to his area to get ready.

“Anything you want me to do, Jack?” Tosh asked. She followed me to my office and settled in the visitor’s chair. I took my own seat. “Jack?”

“I took him home with me,” I blurted, needing to confide in someone who might understand. I knew the other two wouldn’t.

“Who?”

“Ianto Jones.”

She sighed. “So the way to your heart is persistence?” she asked. “Really, Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? We still don’t have enough information on him. And he’s Torchwood London!”

“He doesn’t think the Doctor’s evil.”

“You mean, he did his research and knew to tell you that,” she pointed out.

It was my turn to sigh. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. One of my contacts got me his school records. They’ve been altered. Whoever did it is very good. I could only see traces, by looking for holes where things should’ve been changed but weren’t.” I sighed again. “Well, as they say, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

“I don’t think they meant to take the enemies to bed,” she said drolly.

“How much closer can you get? He was fantastic!”

“I don’t need to hear it.”

“Tosh, you wound me.”

“I’m getting back to work. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.” She stood and turned to the door. Then she paused and turned back. “Let me know if you want to bug your place or monitor his computer.”

“Monitor the computer. I don’t want to bug the place yet.” I leaned back in my chair. “You wouldn’t want to have to listen to it, if you don’t even want to hear me give you the edited version.” I winked. She rolled her eyes and walked away.

By the time I left at quarter of eight that evening, the pterodactyl was mostly able to recognize our scents and Owen had designed a diet plan for her. We still had to toilet train her, but she was doing better and I figured that might take a little longer anyway. Tosh gave me a report on Ianto’s computer usage, which included looking up recipes, emailing his sister to tell her that he’d be over later, and ordering a fancy coffee maker online. Nothing dangerous or suspicious. I couldn’t tell what dinner would be from his browsing history, but they all looked reasonably good.

With a smile on my face I sent my team home and went to get changed for my date.

.

.

.


	7. First Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto and Jack have an argument about Ianto's employment request.

My flat smelled like cleanser and furniture polish, roasting chicken and rosemary. I felt a relaxed smile bloom on my face at the scent of the herb. Ianto had stayed! And he’d cooked for me, like he’s said he would. It’s hard to describe how touched I was in that moment, and not just because no one had cooked for me in years. I felt warmth building in my chest when I thought of the effort he’d gone through for me. He’d cleaned the flat, too, which I hadn’t expected. (Knowing him as I do now, I would have.)  


Ianto greeted me from the kitchen, calling a cheery hello. I joined him there and kissed him, slipping my arms around his waist while his settled around my neck very naturally and with absolutely no hesitation. Dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt and barefoot, he smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. I kissed him harder, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, seeking a taste of him. He groaned when our lips parted.  


“There’s twenty minutes until dinner’s ready,” he said breathlessly. Before I could make a lewd comment or suggest an activity, he’d pressed himself up against me so I could feel his swelling cock. “That’s enough time for a quick shag, yeah?” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear, sending blood to my groin instantly. I had him on his back on the sofa, both of us naked, and me thrusting into him within minutes. He moaned and panted and demanded more. He was turning into a very vocal lover, and I adored it!  


“My mother used to grow rosemary in our kitchen when I was a child,” I told him over dinner. “When the sun hit the window in the afternoon, it would brighten the leaves and make the whole house smell of it.”  


“My mum wasn’t much of a cook,” he replied. “Did yours use rosemary a lot in her dishes?”  


“Yeah. It reminds me of home.”  


“You miss her,” he commented.  


“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my family,” I muttered, closing off that line of thought. “Where did you learn to cook? This is delicious, by the way.”  


“I worked in a restaurant for a while,” he answered, looking down at his food.  


“As a busboy.” His head shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. “I read your file, remember?” We ate in awkward silence for a moment. “So? Where did you learn to cook this well?”  


“Lisa and I cooked together,” he whispered, staring at his food again. His hands started shaking. I reached over and covered them with mine. He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be this upset… I shouldn’t even be here… I shouldn’t be doing what we’ve been doing…”  


“Nothing to be sorry about,” I said softly. “I know what it’s like to lose a lover. People mourn in different ways, and yours is no less valid than anyone else’s.”  


He looked up at me again, pulling one of his hands free to wipe at his tears. “I think you mean it,” he murmured.  


“Where I come from, having sex with someone new soon after a loved one has died isn’t stigmatized. It can be a way of letting go. A way of celebrating that you’re still alive. By being with a man, for you, it could be about mourning.”  


“I lost her, but since I’m shagging a guy it’s OK?” he asked, snorting derisively.  


“I’m not saying that’s all of it. But it could be part. I’ve been on both sides of this particular situation before. You won’t hear me say anything against you for it.”  


“Maybe not, but I still can’t tell my sister.”  


“She’s a product of this time, as are you,” I said philosophically. “I won’t be offended if you want to end it because you’re not over her yet,” I added, while internally I cursed myself for giving him the opportunity to beg off. I really didn’t want him to, and I knew it even before I gave him the option. Still, I wasn’t one for coercion, and I wanted him to be with me because he wanted to be with me.  


We finished our dinner in silence after that, both of us lost in thought. I cleared the table and did dishes while he made coffee, the atmosphere between us still warm despite the dangling offer I’d made. We settled onto the sofa with our mugs and he curled against my side, cuddling, almost, his head resting on my shoulder and my arm around him.  


“I don’t want to stop being with you like this,” he said into the silence. “But I want to talk about something.”  


“All right. What’s on your mind?”  


“I still want to work for you,” he stated.  


I paused for a minute to finish my coffee before answering. "I don't sleep with people who work for me," I told him simply. I set down my mug next to me.  


"So it's either work for you and give up having sex with you, or have sex, but give up on getting the job?" he clarified. "May I ask why?"  


"If my loyalty is to you as a lover, I can't be objective as your boss," I explained, thinking that this was obvious. And at a place like Torchwood, me losing my objectivity could get people hurt or killed. Better be very clear. "And I don't want to be accused of harassment." Then, because I can’t stop flirting or creating innuendo, I added, "Unless we're doing a kinky scene of some kind. I bet you could get me hard just calling me 'sir' with that sexy accent of yours." We had talked about that kind of thing the night before, after all, and I thought it would be interesting to try. Maybe now was the time?  


"What about hiring a former lover?" he persisted, and now I was starting to get annoyed. Why was it so important to him that he work for me? Was this part of whatever secret he was hiding? Was it some way of staying close to his dead girlfriend, by continuing to work for the organization where they met, the organization that got her killed? Was it because Torchwood was all he knew now? I would teach him of other things. I would give him a different life, I promised myself.  


"Never hired one before," I barked, more rudely than I expected to sound. Still, I didn’t need this. I didn’t want to lose him as a lover, not now that we’d been together a few times. He was just as quick to take to it as I’d thought he’d be, and from the few actual conversations we’d had, it seemed like he’d be able to give me some of the emotional support I was craving. I knew I’d be able to give him just as much.  


"Maybe now's the time to try it," he suggested.  


"You'd give up sex with me for a _job_?" I demanded, my temper flaring out of control. I slammed a hand down on the end table, rocking the coffee mug. I shoved him away from me. How could he insult me like this? Me? I’d never had a lover want to leave me before I was ready to let them go, and I didn't like it. There was more to this Ianto Jones than I knew, and even as he made me angry, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything about him. Every fear, every joy, every turn-on, every little bit of history in his short little life.  


"I need the job. I need health benefits,” he said.  


"We have a national health care system!" I shouted, standing.  


"I still need the job."  


"You're on thin ice tonight, Jones," I growled, letting him know just how angry I was. Suddenly, I could smell his desire in the air and knew I’d have a way to distract him. I touched my lips with a finger, adopting a contemplative stance. “You want a job?” I asked. “Let’s see how you take orders in a little _scene_ first, shall we? On your knees!”  


He blinked in surprise for a moment before he slipped off the couch and knelt before me. I kicked the coffee table out of the way. He raised his eyebrow in question, waiting for the next order.  


“Suck it,” I told him.  


“You’ll give me a job if I do this?” he asked as he undid my belt and fly.  


“No, we’re doing a scene,” I reminded him. “I’ll be your boss, and you’ll be the innocent intern I corrupt with my inappropriate sexual demands.” His hands faltered pulling out my cock. “No?” I asked kindly, running my fingers through his hair. “Not ready for a scene just yet?”  


“It’s — It’s not that, s- sir,” he whispered, his voice higher than usual, nervous and stuttering. I could almost see him falling into character. “I’ve just never —” He broke off and looked down and away from me, a picture of embarrassed innocence. “I’ve just never done anything like that before.” He looked at me through his eyelashes, and I was amazed at the transformation of his features. He looked half his actual age and about ready to pass out. “I’ve never seen such a large cock before,” he added, stroking it fully-hard. “It scares me.”  


“It also excites you, though,” I commented, tapping his obvious erection with the toe of my stocking-clad foot. As I pressed against him, I felt his cock moving against my foot, testing the confinement of the jeans. “You’re drooling.”  


“What are you going to do with me, sir?” he asked, wiping at the drool. (He wasn’t actually drooling, but he played along, which whetted my appetite for him even more.)  


I grabbed his collar and dragged him to his feet. “I’m going to fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, boy,” I growled low in my throat, a threat in my voice. His scent spiked higher in the air. Oh, he was liking this! I let go and watched him stumble back to his knees. “Now start sucking, or I’m going to strip you naked and spank you for every second you’re making me wait.”  


He swallowed audibly and got to work. Little did he know I was going to spank him anyway.  


.  


.  


.  


Ianto was seconds away from his second orgasm when my mobile rang. I’d had two already, the first thanks to his sinfully skillful mouth and the second to how wonderfully tight his arse felt around me. Technically, though, we’d shagged before dinner, so it would be third and fourth of the evening, but who’s counting? And how did he get so good at giving blow jobs when he’d only ever done it twice before? And both of those times with me? I must have been thinking about those wonderful Welsh vowels of his as he did it…  


“Come for me, baby,” I whispered, and he did. I pulled out, leaving him panting for breath, collapsed on his stomach in the small puddle. A few quick tugs and I was adding to the mess, spurting over the gorgeous expanse of his back. He groaned softly but didn’t say anything or move as I reached over him for the phone.  


“Tosh? What’s up?”  


“I just finished translating that piece of script from a few days ago. It’s a ransom note for the planet,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. “It says they’ll destroy the planet tomorrow if we don’t give them sovereignty over it, and they described their weapons. Looks real to me.”  


“What do they call themselves?” I asked, heading for the bathroom. “And do I have time for a shower?”  


“A shower? What were you doing that you — Oh. Never mind. Is it still Ianto, or have you moved on?”  


I grinned to myself as I turned on the water. “It’s still him.”  


“Make it a quick one, then. They call themselves ‘The Maninites.”  


I sighed, stepping under the water and soaping up, having put the phone on speaker. “They’re known for having a certain amount of firepower, but I’ll need to see the exact wording of the document. There might be a way to talk our way out of it. You haven’t told anyone else yet, I assume?” I let the water wash away the soap.  


“Really, Jack. Who do you think I am?”  


I laughed along with her and shut off the water. “I’ll be there in ten. Alert the others, will you?”  


“Done.”  


I hung up and returned to the bedroom to dress. Ianto had rolled to his back and was wiping ineffectively at the stickiness on his abdomen. He grimaced at me. “Didn’t think about the cleanup required for two men together,” he muttered. “Guess I better take care of this.” He moved to get out of bed, but I put a hand on his shoulder and held him down.  


“We’re not done yet,” I told him. “I expect you here when I get back, understand?” I dropped a kiss on his mouth and strode from the flat, my mind already on the Maninites and the possibilities for world destruction should they be from a powerful caste.  


Halfway down the hall to the lift I realized my mistake in ordering Ianto to stay at my flat. That wasn’t the way I wanted things to go. I swung around. He was in the shower when I got back, and I decided I didn’t want to disturb him and risk getting into a long conversation when I had a potential alien invasion on my hands, so I pulled a postcard from one of the pockets of my coat and scrawled a quick note to him. I propped it against the coffee maker, where I knew he’d see it and left again.  


I let myself into the flat twenty-seven hours later, having faced down the Maninites, captured three weevils, and helped Owen stitch up a wounded Hoix before handing it over to UNIT. Ianto called me around eleven, but I hadn’t been able to answer, and he hadn’t left a message, so I wasn’t sure whether or not he’d be home when I got there. I hoped he’d be there, though. I slipped out of my boots in the front hall and hung my coat on the usual hook. Neither his coat nor his shoes were there. I felt a sourness in the pit of my stomach. He hadn’t stayed. Well, it was my own fault, wasn’t it?  


In the kitchen I found a covered dish and a note. _“Thought you might like some supper. If you’ve eaten, just put it away and have it for lunch tomorrow. —I”_  


I lifted the lid and saw that he’d turned the leftovers from the night before into a stew of some kind. I let myself fall into the chair and picked up a spoon. Even cold, it was delicious. I suddenly regretted the Chinese I’d scarfed down two hours before. With a sigh I covered the dish and took it to the fridge. Better save it for tomorrow when I could appreciate it, even if the man who made it was gone.  


In my mind I saw the report Tosh handed me on my way out of the Hub, of Ianto’s computer usage for the day. More recipes, emails to friends, confirmation of having lunch with his sister and her children, and a lot of searching of newspapers for information about Canary Wharf. Of course he’d be looking at that. I wondered if it would be right to ask him to help prepare the memorial service for the victims, then immediately dismissed the thought. It wasn’t his responsibility.  


The last paragraph of the report was typical Tosh. _“He also looked at health websites, focusing on gay sex and ‘standard practices.’ He must be into you, too. Go easy on him. He was researching the complications of too much anal sex.”_  


My poor Ianto, I thought to myself. Eager and willing and too nervous to ask me about it. Maybe I’ll give him a break and let him top me next time. If there _is_ a next time.  


I’m not sure where that seed of doubt came from, but it shocked me none the same. That I wanted him so much that I worried that I wouldn’t see him again? Unheard of for me! I hurried to the bedroom to see if he was there, wondering if the food was more of a sign than the absent shoes.  


Sure enough, he lay curled on his side facing away from the door. He shifted restlessly, whimpering softly, and I realized that he must be having a nightmare. I quickly undressed and climbed into bed next to him, holding him tightly and kissing his shoulder, the closest part of his body I could reach comfortably. He seemed to calm down then, relaxing against me.  


I let my mind wander as I held him while he slept. I dozed off for the second time in two days. There was something about being with Ianto that relaxed me, that made me feel comfortable enough to sleep. It seemed I provided the same comfort for him because he slept through the rest of the night without another nightmare.  


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	8. Jack's Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has some insecurity he doesn't like thinking about.

It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon, and Ianto wasn't in my flat. Normally, if a lover wasn't where I expected them to be, I didn't tend to care overly much. In my life, lovers came and went with some regularity and I let them. It was safer for me that way. But this was Ianto we're talking about.

Ianto Jones, a man who'd already changed me more than I knew. A man who intrigued me from the start. A man who's simple question changed everything.

_So you're not going to help me catch this pterodactyl, then?_

A man who's simple acceptance of 51st century pheromones blew me away. Who's kiss on the floor of a warehouse opened up a world of possibilities I'd never considered for the way I lived my life. A man who's very presence calmed me and allowed me to sleep more restfully and dreamlessly than I could ever remember in my adult life. A man who made love to me unashamedly and with all the passion in his heart and body and soul.

Or so I thought at the time.

I'd sent my team home early so we could all have a break. We'd had middle of the night call outs four days in a row, and I was annoyed at how much it was cutting into my sex life. So I sent them all home and went to mine, intending to spend most of the next sixteen hours in bed with Ianto. But he wasn't there and I was starting to panic. Where was he? Was he ok?

 _Take a deep breath, Jack,_ I told myself. _He's probably just out shopping. He cooks fresh meals every night, so he's just getting spinach, or whatever vegetable he's going to feed me._ That settled, I relaxed a little. I stripped off my coat and boots. I padded into the bedroom, intending to lie down to wait for him.

By four, with no sign of him, the panic started to resurface. I swallowed it down and dialed his number on my mobile.

"Good afternoon, Jack," he said, a smile in his voice. "I'm a little busy right this minute, but is there something you need?"

"Oh, I gave everyone the afternoon and evening off and was hoping to catch you before you started cooking so I could take you out," I answered calmly, hoping to entice him with promises for something other than our usual pattern.

"You want to take me out?" He asked, sounding surprised. "To dinner?"

"Yeah. Is that so strange?"

"No! No, not strange at all."

"Where are you?"

"London," he answered, rather reluctantly.

"Are you leaving me?" The words left my mouth and hung in the air between us before I was aware I'd spoken, let alone how needy I'd sounded. The silence as I waited for his answer nearly deafened me.

Then Ianto chuffed softly into the phone. "Of course not!" he exclaimed. "I'm just getting some things from my flat. I'll be back in Cardiff at 8:04, if the train's on time."

"Oh. Oh, good. Um, yeah. Sorry," I babbled. "Don't know what came over me. You want me to pick you up at the station and take you out?"

"I'd like that," Ianto said gently.

"I'll get us a reservation," I told him.

"Thanks." He paused, and I could almost hear him thinking. "Jack? I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming to London today. I didn't mean to worry you. I just thought I needed some other clothes, and why buy more when I have then here?"

"I wasn't worried," I blustered, and I could practically see him raising a skeptical eyebrow at me. He was so good at doing that. Not to mention that it was totally hot! "OK, I was worried. But you shouldn't have to tell me where you're going. I just got, I don't know, worried that you weren't here."

"It's OK, Jack. I'll be home soon, and then I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I'll see you at the station."

"Bye."

.  
.

I stood by the SUV feigning nonchalance when Ianto arrived. Dressed in a dark suit and purple shirt, with a striking red tie, he looked good enough to eat. I watched him looking for me, then was rewarded with a huge smile when he spotted me. He picked up his pace and strode over to me, an air of confidence about him. Without bothering to look around at who was nearby, he grabbed the back of my head and dragged me a step forward into a kiss considerably more intimate than the public were used to seeing, no matter the gender of the people doing the kissing. I kissed him back, of course.

We disentangled ourselves after the third wolf whistle and he threw his carryall and garment bag on the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat next to me. We kissed again, and his hand slid up my thigh. I broke away reluctantly, knowing he could read the hunger in my eyes. He gave me another kiss and removed his hand.

"Miss me?" he asked, still smiling, rather smugly, I might add.

"Nah, not a bit," I replied trying to joke away my earlier anxiety. I pulled into traffic.

"You don't like to be vulnerable, do you?" he asked suddenly.

"Does anyone?" I shot back quickly.

"You're evading the question."

"I plead the fifth."

"What?"

"The fifth amendment to the US constitution. It says –"

"That you don't have to say anything if you're just going to incriminate yourself, I know," Ianto finished for me. "But being vulnerable isn't anything to be ashamed of. Not with me. You've seen my nightmares, haven't you? You've woken me up a few times. I'm not going to judge you." I nodded and concentrated on my driving. "Seems to me like you had a bit of a panic attack when you couldn't find me," he commented, the smile still on his face. "Is the famous Captain Harkness really that insecure?" he joked. "Did you really think I was leaving you because you couldn't find me for an hour?" He laughed. I wasn't amused, not by a long shot.

"People can die," I muttered.

"Of course they can, but I wasn't dead. I was just a few hours away. I didn't even think you'd notice I was gone, since you've had so many late nights in a row this week."

"You don't understand," I replied, making a hard turn that had him clutching at the bar above the door to keep from rolling into me. He yelled out it protest. "No one understands."

"So explain it," he suggested, still holding tightly to the bar.

I made another hairpin turn and shot through a red light, barely aware of the traffic that scattered in front of me and the honking horns I left behind in my wake. Tires squealing, I slid us into a parking spot across the street from the restaurant. I could feel the anger in the quickness of my breath, in the tightness of my chest, in the white of my knuckles gripping the steering wheel. I could feel the fear that the anger was keeping at bay. I could feel the - _no, stop, don't go there yet –_

"I'm over two hundred years old, Ianto. I've lived longer than any human was meant to live and stay sane. I've lost lovers and wives and friends. Every single one of them. I've watched people die quickly and slowly, peacefully and not. I will never grow old with someone. I will never be able to promise anything beyond their life, because _I will go on_. I always go on, no matter how many times I've died, no matter how I've died. I will never have that one great love that everyone wants, because I have too much time. Do you get it? Too much time! And I'm miserable. I'm so fucking miserable that I grasp at any opportunity for normalcy, for love, because I know exactly how short life is."

I took a deep breath before continuing, still not looking at him, still staring at my hands on the steering wheel. "Everyone who's known my secret had left me. Did you know that? Not died, but left. Walked out the door, not even a 'see you later,' never heard from again. The last woman I let myself love took our daughter - _my daughter_ \- with her. She said I was a danger to our daughter because I couldn't die or age." I flexed my fingers on the steering wheel.

"And then I met you, after decades of meaningless sex, and we make love because that's all you know how to do, and I loved it, and wanted more, and what am I supposed to do now, Ianto? I shied away from that kind of thing for so long because I knew what it would do to me. It would break me, because you'll die, too, and it'll be sooner than I want, and I've lost so many people, and I don't know if I can lose another, and I'm so fucking _lonely!_

"So forgive me if I get a little _worried_ about you not being where I thought you'd be," I finally snarl, looking up at him through the tears I only then realized I was shedding.

Ianto stared at me, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Clearly, he'd never thought about the consequences of my "condition," as he'd so aptly called it the night we got together. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think…"

He held me, then, and we both cried, and kissed, and apologized, and eventually calmed down enough to only be an hour late for our dinner reservation.

.  
.  
.  
Ianto got jealous when I flirted with the hostess who seated us. He got even more jealous when the waiter flirted with me and I flirted back. Then there was the girl who filled our water glasses, and the bartender who sent free drinks, and the runner from the kitchen who delivered our dinner, and the waiter again, who was just checking to see if we were enjoying our meal. After the manager came and practically offered herself to us on a silver platter for a threeway, I knew he was at his boiling point. Ianto was a man who didn't like to share lovers, though we'd agreed that it was a possibility. I suspect that seeing all the flirting right there in front of him is what made him so reactive that day, not to mention my emotional outburst earlier. We were both still recovering, and my way was to flirt with everyone, while his was to focus all his energy on me.

Catching and holding his eyes, I showed him exactly what I was in the mood for with my index finger and a dollop of whipped cream off his tiramisu. He turned beet red. I winked.

"Behave!" he hissed, kicking my shin under the table. "Or don't you want to be able to fuck me in the back alley before we go back to yours?" he asked sweetly.

"Kinky boy," I drawled, licking the last of the cream from my finger. "Just the kind of man I want to take home with me." His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed several times. I repeated the procedure with the whipped cream, slower this time, and with more tongue. His ears were practically on fire. His pheromones saturated the air around the table and I drank them up.

"Be out there by the time I'm back from the loo," he growled, slipping away from the table. I laughed as he sidestepped around the over-enthusiastic manager, though I noticed that he did take an extra long look at her breasts. They were even more on display than when she was at our table, and she'd put on fuck-me heels and a low-hanging pendant that was seconds away from getting lost in her cleavage. Grinning, I tossed a pile of notes on the table and stood.

"Maybe next time," I purred in her ear as I passed her on my way out the front door. "Make sure you give him your number," I added with a wink, letting my lips brush the edge of her ear ever so slightly. She had a silent but very satisfying orgasm right there in the middle of the restaurant as I trailed my hand over her pert little arse in its tight skirt. Oh, yes, Ianto and I could have fun with her… Between that arse and those legs and that tiny little mole by the corner of her lips… Yes, we could have lots of fun with her… And did I mention her _breasts…?_

My pheromones were just as airborne as Ianto's and much more potent, and between mine and his, there would be a lot of people shagging tonight just from being in our presence. A _lot_ of shagging, if I read the signs correctly, which I did. I could already see men and women reaching for their wallets, several women fanning themselves, and quite a few men shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, as if they suddenly felt confined. I watched a pair of women flirting at the bar, then linking hands and moving to follow me outside. They turned away and hurried off, giggling and trying to kiss at the same time.

In the alley, Ianto directed me to stand against the wall while he knelt in front of me. He made sure both of us were hidden by shadows. Not that I cared, but I didn't see a reason to argue when he was about to blow me. He started slowly, just licking me in long swipes, getting used to the unusual position we were in, getting used to being outside.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked softly, deepening his accent the way I loved. Not waiting for my answer, he enveloped me in his mouth, taking me all the way. God, he was good at this! I swear he got better each time, and this was outstanding! I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back for very long. I tugged gently on his hair to get his attention, but he swatted my hand away. He did something particularly agile with his tongue and I was gasping, punching the wall behind me to keep from coming.

"Ianto, stop! I'm not going to last —"

He released my cock from his mouth and smiled up at me. "Oh, I think you're up to the task, _sir_ ," he rumbled, and before I could do anything about it, I came all over his face. We stared at each other for a moment as I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment. That was twice now he'd made me come when I didn't expect it. What was going on with me? Where was my control? What was so special about him that he could do this to me, not once, but two times?

"Well," Ianto huffed. "That didn't feel nearly as degrading as I expected it to," he commented as he wiped his face clean with a handkerchief. "A little warning would be good for next time, yeah?"

"Ianto —"

"Shut up and kiss me," he ordered, standing. We stood there, pressed together and just kissing, for a long time. His erection dug into my hip. Every time I tried to touch him, he pushed my hands away. I was growling in frustration when he pulled his mouth away to let us speak again. "Are you ready to fuck me yet?" he asked, tugging on my cock to make sure it was hard again, which it was, and had been for almost as long as we'd been kissing. He knew my recovery time, though, and we both knew he was teasing. We'd certainly enjoyed the kissing, hadn't we?

I gave him one of my best smiles. "Are you ready to be fucked?" I countered. "I'm hungry tonight," I told him.

"The question begs, sir. Do you deserve to be allowed to fuck me?" he asked, squeezing me just a little bit too hard. "You flirted with every single person in that restaurant."

"And _you_ have a phone number in your pocket," I informed him. He froze in surprise.

"How do you know —"

Before he could finish his question, I had him pinned face-first against the wall.

"Trousers down. Bend over." He rushed to comply.

I started with two fingers instead of one, because, really, he was already panting for me. The danger of getting caught turned him on, and the idea of being buggered in an alley behind an exclusive French restaurant, while never a fantasy of his before he met me, was now at the top of his list. And he'd been the one to suggest it! My kinky boy was getting more and more adventurous, and I loved it.

He shouted out when I entered him, since I hadn't stretched him more than the two fingers, but his scent and breathing were telling me how much he enjoyed it, and he didn't tell me to stop or use his safeword, so I figured we were good to go.

He was getting louder with each thrust, and if I didn't contain him soon, we'd be discovered for sure. I shoved my hand into the pocket of my coat with the alien sterilizer in it and brought it up to his face to stroke his cheek once the cycle completed. Five seconds, not bad, if I do say so myself. You never know when you'll need your fingers for more than one task, after all.

"Either you bite my hand or I cover your mouth," I said. "Which do you want?"

"Bite," he gasped, and I shoved my hand in his mouth. He whimpered around it and bit down, hard, when I thrust again, and I didn't care that I might have teeth marks on my hand between my index finger and thumb if this is how I got them. He was shoving his arse back with each of my thrusts, angling for the best fit, for the most pleasure, for me to hit his prostate over and over. I held him steady with my other hand on his hip.

"More. Harder," he begged, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he held himself up. "Hard as you can!" I obliged. I'm nothing if not a gentleman when it comes to sex.

He came all over the alley wall. I came deep inside him.

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.

.

Ianto's eyes are blue. Not just any blue, they're the blue of the sky above the Boeshane Peninsula just after dawn when I would run along the ocean looking for adventures. They're the blue of the sky when a storm was brewing. They're the blue of the water at mid-day when I would swim and surf. And, most importantly, they're the blue of everything that's ever been good in my life.

Did I mention that I love blue?

Did I mention that I love Ianto's eyes?

Did I mention that I love _Ianto?_

I love Ianto.

There, I said it. Ten days after meeting him, nine days after we first kissed and fucked and slept in the same bed, and I said it. To myself, at least.

It's too early. Too early for everything. Too early to tell him, certainly. He just lost his girlfriend — maybe his fiance — and I've been in this century long enough to know that there will likely be a very big reaction when he finally gets around to mourning her, when the novelty of having sex with me wanes and he realizes that he's just spent however long fucking someone else before she was even buried. People in this time don't see relationships and sex the way I do, and I've spent years learning the rules that are so different from the ones I soaked up just by living as a child in my own time.

He'll probably leave me because he feels guilty, and I don't like it, but I wouldn't blame him. I wouldn't stop him, either, though I'd put up a fight if he didn't seem completely determined to do it. He's a product of his time just as much as I'm a product of mine. No use crying over spilled milk, as the saying goes. No use crying over milk that hasn't even been spilled yet, especially since there's always the possibility of him coming back to me after he mourns her.

So what do I do when I'm staring into Ianto's eyes as we make love, feeling this emotion that will get me into all kinds of trouble if I express it? When I'm moving inside him, rocking into him slowly and carefully, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure, knowing I'm doing it for him first, and not me?

Simple. I do the only thing I _can_ do to show him how important he is to me. I slip out of him and settle down on his cock for the first time. His eyes widen in surprise and he moans, thrusting up into me. He didn't expect the (cold) lube I slathered on him, but it's necessary, and he knows it. He's not complaining, not one little bit. I close my eyes and relish the burn I haven't felt in years, haven't felt safe enough to let myself feel with anyone. He knows it's been a long time since I've bottomed, and he's trying to be careful, even as the sensations overwhelm him.

He's just the right size, I realize, filling me to bursting without actually bursting anything. I didn't bother to stretch myself, just wanting to feel him inside me. I must be so tight. It's a wonder he's still holding on, but that's Ianto for you. A wonder. I feel him throbbing, so I give him an experimental squeeze.

"Oh, fuck!" he exclaims. "Oh, God!" His instincts are good, like they've been all along, and he finds my prostate quickly. (It helps that I'm sitting on him while he's on his back, so I can control things a little more than in other positions, but for now I let him have his success and don't mention it. He probably knows, anyway, what with all the research he's done this last week.)

And so I learn his reactions to this new kind of sex, even as I teach him with mine, and we find a rhythm, and he's coming and I'm coming and we're both breathless and sweaty and he's coming again because I gave him one last squeeze and he's laying his head back and passing out, barely able to kiss me, but we manage, because there's no way I'm letting him fall asleep after that without at least a kiss and he calls me cariad as he dozes off, and I've been in Wales long enough to know what that means, so I let myself get carried away by joy and hope and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep of my own, more contented and happy than I can remember being since I arrived on this blasted planet.

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I woke up the morning after our date at the restaurant to the glorious ache of being loved in just the right way. Ianto was smiling in his sleep, and believe me, the only reason I left him that day was because the Queen called me.


End file.
